The Red Pyramid

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EPISODE 1 A DEATH AT THE NEEDLE Carter We only have a few hours,so listen carefully. Go to school.Find the locker.I won't tell you which school or which locker,because if you're the right person you'll find it.the combination is 13/32/33. By the time you finish listening,you'll know what those number mean. Just remember the story we're about to tell you isn't complete yet.how it ends depend on you. The most important thing : when you open the package and find what is inside ,don't keep it longer than a week. Sure,it'll be tempting.I mean, it will grant you almost unlimited power. But if you possess it too long it will consure you. learn its secrets and pass it on. My name is Carter Kane. I'm fourteen and my home is a suitcase. Since I was eight years old ,my dad and I have travelled the world. I was born in LA but my dad's an archaeologists, so hisxwork takes him all over. Mostly we go to Egypt, since that's his speciality. There are other reasons my dad moved around so much, but I didn't know his secret back then. I didn't go to school.My dad home-schooled me, if you can call it a home when you don't have one. He taught me whatever he thought was important, so l learned a lot about Egypt and basketball stats and my dad's favourite musicians. I read a lot,too -pretty much any thing I could get my hands on,from dad's history books to fantasy novels-because I spent a lot of time sitting around in hotels and airports and dig sites in foreign countries where I didn't know any body. Anyway my dad trained me early to keep all my possessions in a single suit case that fits in an aeroplanes overhead compartment. My dad packed the same way,except he was allowed an extra workbag for his archaeology tools. Rule number one: l was not allowed to look in his workbag. That's a rule I never broke until the day of the explosion. hands on

It happened on Christmas Eve. We were in London for a visitation day with my sister,Sadie. See,Dad's only allowed two days a year with her -because our grandparents hate him. After our mom died,her parents (our grandparents) had this big court battle with Dad. After six lawyers, two fistfights and a near-fatal attack with a spatula, they won the right to keep Sadie with them in England. She was only six,two years younger than me,they couldn't keep us both - at least that was their excuse for not taking me. So Sadie was raised as a British schoolkid, and I travelled around with my dad. We only saw Sadie twice a year ,which was fine by me.. So anyway,my dad and I had just flown into Heathrow after a couple of delays. It was a drizzly,cold afternoon. THE Whole taxi ride into the city, my dad seemed kind of nervous. Now my dad is a big guy. You wouldn't think could make him nervous. He has dark brown skin like mine,piercing brown eyes,a bald head and a goatee, so he looks like a buff evil scientist..Usually he exudes so much confidence that he dominates any room he walks into ,but sometimes-like that afternoon- I saw another side of him that I didn't really understand. He kept looking over his shoulder like we were being hunted. 'Dad?'I said as we were getting off the A40."What's wrong?' 'No sign of them,'he muttered. Then he must've realised he'd spoken aloud, because he looked at me kind of startled."Nothing Carter. Everything's fine.' Which bothered me because my dad is a terrible liar. I always knew he was hiding something, but I also knew that no amount of pestering would get the truth out of him. He was probably trying to protect me,though from what I didn't know. Sometimes l wondered if he had some dark secret in the past,some old enemy following him,maybe;but the idea seemed ridiculous. Dad was just an archaeologist. The other thing that troubled me: Dad was clutching his workbag. Usually when he does that,it means we're in danger. Like the time gunmen stormed our hotel in Cairo. I heard shots coming from the lobby and ran downstairs to check on my dad. By the time I got there ,he was just calmly zipping up his workbag while three unconscious gunmen hung by their feet from the chandelier, their robes falling over their heads so you could see their boxer short. Dad claimed not to have witnessed anything, and in the end the police blamed a freak chandelier malfunction. Another time,we got caught in a riot in Paris. My dad found the nearest car,pushed me into the back seat and told me to stay down. I pressed myself against the floorboards and kept my eyes shut tight. I could hear Dad in the driver's seat,rummaging in his bag,mumbling something to himself while the mob yelled and destroyed things outside. A few minutes later he told me it was safe to get up. Every other car on the block had been overturned and set on fire. Our car had been freshly washed and polished, and several twenty-euro notes had been tucked under the windshield wipers. Anyway, l'd come to respect the bag. It was our good luck charm. But when my dad kept it close it meant we were going to need good luck

interesting

Nice start

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Gonna b a great ride

Ah dey with you. Both in prayer and in support

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We drove through the city centre, heading towards my grand parents' flat. We passed the golden gates of Buckingham Palace, the big stone column in Trafalgar Square. London is a pretty cool place,but after you've travelled so long, all cities start to blend together. Other kids l meet sometimes say,'wow,you are so lucky you get to travel so much.' But it's not like we spend our time sightseeing or we have a lot of money to travel in style. We've stayed in some pretty rough places,and we hardly ever stay longer than a few days . Most of the time it feels like we're fugitives rather than tourists. I mean,you wouldn't think my dad's work was dangerous. He does lectures on topics like 'Can Egyptian Magic Really Kill You?' and 'Favourite Punishments in the Egyptian Underworld' and other stuffs people wouldn't care about. But like I said ,there's that other side to him. He's always very cautious, checking every hotel room before he lets me walk into it . He'll dart into a museum to see some artefacts, take a few notes and rush out again like he's afraid to be caught on the security cameras. One time when I was younger, we raced across the Charles de Gaulle Airport to catch a last minute flight , Dad didn't relax until the plane was off the ground. I asked him point blank what he was running from,and he looked at me like I'd just pulled the pin out of a grenade. For a second l was scared he might actually tell me the truth. Then he said, 'Carter, it's nothing.' As if nothing were the most terrible thing in the world. After that I decided may be it was better not to ask questions. My grandparents, the Fausts, live in a housing development near Canary Wharf, right on the banks of the River Thames. The taxi let us off the Kerb,and my dad asked the driver to wait. We were halfway up the walk when dad froze. He turned and look behind us. Then I saw the man in the trench coat. He was across the street, leaning against a big dead tree.He was barrel shaped,with the skin colour of a roasted coffee. His coat and black pinstriped suit looked expensive. He had long braided hair and wore a black fedora pulled down low over his dark round glasses. He reminded me of a jazz musician, the kind my dad would always drag me to see in concert. Even though I couldn't see his eyes,I got the impression he was watching us. He might've been an old friend or a colleague of dad's. No matter where we went,Dad was always running into people he knew. But it did seem strange that a guy was here,outside my grandparents'.And he didn't look happy. 'Carter',my dad said,'go on ahead.' 'But-' 'Get your sister. I'll meet you back at the taxi.' He crossed the street towards the man in the trench coat,which left me with two choices : follow my dad and and see what was going on,or do what I was told. I decided on the slightly less dangerous path. I went to retrieve my sister. Before I could even knock,Sadie opened the door. 'Late as usual,'she said.

FTC..... Now thats how to make a start.... Nice one ---next please

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She was holding her cat,Muffin, who'd been a 'going away' gift from dad six years before. Muffin never seemed to get older or bigger. She had a fuzzy yellow and black fur like a miniature leopard, alert yellow eyes and pointy ears that were too tall for her head. A sliver Egyptian pendant dangled from her collar. She didn't look anything like a muffin,but Sadie had been little when she named her,so I guess you have to cut her some slack.. Sadie hasn't changed much either since last summer. You would never quess she's my sister. First of all,she'd been living in England so long,she has a British accent. Second,she takes after our mom,who was white,so Sadie's skin is much lighter than mine. She has straight caramel coloured hair,not exactly blonde but not Brown, which she usually dyes with streaks of bright colours. That day it had red streaks down the left side. Her eyes are blue. I'm serious. Blue eyes, just like our mom's: She's only twelve, but she's exactly as tall as me,which is really annoying. She was chewing gum as usual, dressed for her day out with Dad in battered jeans,a leather jacket and combat boots,like she was going to a concert and was hoping to stomp on some people. She had headphones dangling round her neck in case we bored her. 'Our plane was late,' I told her. She popped a bubble, rubbed Muffin's head and tossed the cat inside. 'Gran,going out!' From somewhere in the house, Grandma Faust said something I couldn't make out,probably, 'Don't let them in!' Sadie closed the door and regarded me as if l were a dead mouse her cat had just dragged in. 'So,here you are again.' 'Yep.' 'Come on,then.'she sighed. 'Let's get on with it.' That's the way she was. No 'Hi,how you been the last six months?So glad to see you!' or anything. But that was okay with me. When you only see each other twice a year,it's like you're distance cousins rather than siblings. We had absolutely nothing in common except our parents. We trudged down the steps. I was thinking how she smelled like the combination of old people's house and bubblegum when she stopped so abruptly I ran into her. 'Who's that?'she asked.

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Sadie ask ur dad that question.

I'd almost forgotten about the dude in the trench coat. He and my dad were standing across the street next to the big tree,having what looked like a serious argument. Dad's back was turned so I couldn't see his face,but he gestured with his hands like he does when he's agitated. The other guy scowled and shook his head. 'Dunno,' I said. 'He was there when we pulled up.' 'He looks familiar.' Sadie frowned like she was trying to remember. 'Come on.' 'Dad wants us to wait in the cab,' I said,even though I knew it was no use. Sadie was already on the move. Instead of going straight across the street,she dashed up the sidewalk for half a block,ducking behind cars,then crossed to the opposite side and crouched under a low stone wall. She started sneaking towards our dad. I didn't have much choice but to follow her example, even though it made me feel kind of stupid. 'Six years in England,' I muttered,'and she thinks she's James Bond' Sadie swatted me without looking back and kept creeping forward. A couple more steps and we were right behind the big dead tree. I could hear my dad on the other side,saying,'-have to,Amos. You know it's the right thing.' 'No,'Said the other man,who must've been Amos. His voice was deep and even very insistent. His accent was American. 'if I don't stop you,Julius,they will. The Per Ankh is shadowing you.' Sadie turned to me and mouthed the words 'Per what?' I shook my head,just mystified. 'Let's get out of here,' I whispered, because I figured we'd be spotted any minute and get in serious trouble. Sadie,of course, ignored me. 'They don't know my plan,'my father was saying. 'By the time they figure it out -' 'And the children?' Amos asked. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. 'What about them?' 'I've made arrangements to protect them,' my dad said. 'Besides, if I don't do this,we're all in danger. Now back off.' 'I can't, Julius.' 'Then it's a duel you want?' Dad's tone turned deadly serious. 'You never could beat me,Amos.' I hadn't seen my dad get so violent since the Great Spatula Incident,and I wasn't anxious to see a repeat of that,but the two men seemed to be edging towards a fight. Before I could react,Sadie popped up and shouted, 'Dad!' He looked surprised when she tackle hugged him,but not nearly as surprised as the other guy, Amos. He backed up so quickly, he tripped over his own trench coat. He'd taken off his glasses. I couldn't help thinking that Sadie was right. He look familiar - Like a very distant memory. 'I - I must be going,' he said. He straightened his fedora and lumbered down the road. Our dad watched him go. He kept one arm protectively around Sadie and one hand inside the workbag slung over his shoulder. Finally, when Amos disappeared round the corner,Dad relax. He took his hand out of the bag and smiled at Sadie. 'Hello ,sweetheart.' Sadie pushed away from him and crossed her arms. 'Oh,now it's sweetheart, is it? you're late. Visitation Day's nearly over! And what was that about? Who's Amos,and what's the Per Ankh?' Dad stiffened. He glanced at me like he was wondering how much we'd overhead. 'It's nothing,' he said,trying to sound upbeat. 'I have a wonderful evening planned. Who'd like a private tour of the British Museum?'

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Sadie slumped in the back of the taxi between Dad and me. 'I can't believe it,' She grumbled. 'One evening together,and you want to do research.' Dad tried for a smile. 'Sweetheart, it'll be fun. The curator of the Egyptian collection personally invited -' 'Right,big surprise.' Sadie blew a strand of red streak hair out of her face. 'Christmas Eve,and we're going to see some mouldy old relics from Egypt. Do you think about anything else?' Dad didn't get mad. He never gets mad at Sadie. He just stared out of the window at the darkening sky and the rain. 'Yes,' he said quietly 'I do.' Whenever Dad got quite like that and stared off into nowhere, I knew he was thinking about our mom. The last few months,it had been happening a lot. I'd walk into our hotel room and find him with his cell phone in his hands,Mom's picture smiling up at him from the screen - her hair tucked under a headscarf, her blue eyes startlingly bright against the desert backdrop. Or we'd be at some dig site. I'd see him staring at the horizon,and I'd know he was remembering how he'd met her - two young scientists in the valley of the kings,on a dig to discover a lost tomb. Dad was an Egyptologist. Mom was an anthropologist looking for ancient DNA. He'd told me and the story a thousand times. Our taxi snaked it's was along the banks of the Thames. Just past Waterloo Bridge,my dad tensed. 'Driver,'he said. 'Stop here a moment.' The cabbie pulled over on the Victoria Embankment. 'What is it, Dad?' I asked. He got out of the cab like he hadn't heard me. When Sadie and I joined him on the sidewalk, he was staring up at Cleopatra's Needle. In case you've never seen it:the Needle is an obelisk, not a needle, and it doesn't have anything to do with Cleopatra. I guess the British just thought the name sounded cool when they brought it to London. It's about seventy feet tall,which would've been really impressive back in Ancient Egypt,but on the Thames, with all the tall buildings around,it looked so small and sad. You could drive right by it and not even realise you'd just pass something that was a thousand years older than the city of London. 'God.' Sadie walked round in a frustrated circle. 'Do we have to stop for every monument?' My dad stared at the on top of the obelisk. 'I had to see it again,' he murmured. 'Where it happened ...' A freezing wind blew off the river. I wanted to get back in the cab, but my dad was really starting to worry me. I'd never seen him so distracted. 'What, Dad?'I asked. 'What happened here?' 'The last place I saw her.' Sadie stopped pacing. She scowled at me uncertainly,then back at Dad. 'Hang on. Do you mean Mum?' Dad brushed Sadie's hair behind her ear,and she was so surprised, she didn't even push him away. I felt like the rain had frozen me solid. Mom's death had always been a forbidden subject. I knew my grandparents blamed my dad. But no one would ever tell us the details. I'd given up asking my dad,partly because it made him so sad,partly because he absolutely refused to tell me anything. 'When you're older,'was all he would say,which was the most frustrating response ever. 'You're telling us she died here,'I said. 'At Cleopatra's Needle? What happened?' He lowered his head. 'Dad!' Sadie protested.'I go past this every day,and you mean to say - all this time - and I didn't even know?' 'Do you still have your cat?' Dad asked her,which seemed like a really stupid question.

'Of course l've got the cat!'she said. 'What does that have to do with anything?' 'And your amulet?' Sadie hand went to her neck. When we were little,right before Sadie went to live with our grandparents, Dad had given us both Egyptian amulets. Mine was an Eye of Horus,which was a popular protection symbol in Ancient Egypt. Anyway, I always wore my amulet under my shirt,but l figured Sadie would've lost hers or thrown it away. To my surprise, she nodded. 'Course I have it,Dad,but don't try to change the subject. Gran's always going about how you caused Mum's death. That's not true,is it?' We waited. For once,Sadie and I wanted exactly the same thing -the truth. 'The night your mother died,'my father started,'here at the needle -' A sudden flash illuminated the Embankment. I turned, half blind, and just for a moment I glimpsed two figures: a tall pale man with a forked beard ,wearing cream coloured robes,and a coppery skinned girl in dark blue robes and a headscarf - the kind of clothes I'd seen hundreds of times in Egypt. They were just standing there side by side,not twenty feet away,watching us. Then the light faded. The figures melted into a fuzzy after image. When my eyes readjusted to the darkness,they were gone. 'Um. . .'Sadie said nervously. 'Did you see that?' 'Get in the cab,'my dad said,pushing us towards the kerb. 'We're out of time.' From that point on,Dad clammed up. 'This isn't the place to talk,'he said,glancing behind us. He'd promised the cabbie an extra ten pounds if he got us to the museum in under five minutes, and the cabbie was doing his best. 'Dad,' I tried,'those people at the river -' 'And the other bloke,Amos,'Sadie said. 'Are they Egyptian police or something?' 'Look, both of you,' Dad said, 'I'm going to need your help tonight. I know it's hard,but you have to be patient. I'll explain everything, I promise, after we get to the museum. I'm going to make everything right again.' 'What do you mean?'Sadie insisted. 'Make things right?' Dad's expression was more than sad. It was almost guilty. With z chill, I thought about what Sadie had said: about our grandparents blaming him for Mom's death. That couldn't be what he was talking about,could it? The cabbie swerved onto Great Russell Street and screeched to a halt in front of the museum's main gates. 'Just follow my lead,' Dad told us. 'When we meet the curator, act normal.' I was thinking that Sadie Never acted normal, but I decided not to say any thing. We CLIM out of the cab. I got our luggage while Dad paid the driver with a big was of cash. Then he did something strange. He threw a handful of small objects into the back seat - they looked like stones, but it was too dark for me to be sure. 'Keep driving,'he told the cabbie. 'Take us to Chelsea.' That made no sense since we were already out of the cab,but when the driver sped off. I glanced at Dad,then back at the cab,and before it turned the corner and disappeared in the dark. I caught a weird glimpse of three passengers in the back seat:a man and too kids. I blinked. There was no way the cab could've picked up another fare so fast. 'Dad -' 'London cabs don't stay empty very long,'he said matter-of-factly. 'Come along,kids.' He marched off through the wrought-iron gates. For a second, Sadie and I hesitated. 'Carter, what is going on?' I shook my head. 'I'm not sure I want to know.' 'Well,stay out here in the cold if you want,but I'm not leaving without an explanation.' She turned and marched after our dad. Looking back on it, I should've run. I should've dragged Sadie out of there and got as far away as possible. Instead I followed her through the gates. The Story Just Began tol

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An Explosion For Christmas CARTER I'd Been To The British Museum Before. In fact, I've been in more museums than I like to admit - it makes me sound like a total geek. Anyway,the museum was closed and completely dark,but the curator and two security guards were waiting for us on the front steps. 'Dr Kane!'The curator was a greasy little dude in a cheap suit. I'd seen mummies with more hair and better teeth. He shook my dad's hand like he was meeting a rock star. 'Your last paper on Imhotep - brilliant! I don't know how you translated those spells!' 'im-ho-who?' Sadie muttered to me. 'Imhotep,' I said. 'High priest, architect. Some say he was a magician. Designed the first step pyramid. You know.' 'Don't know,' Sadie said. 'Don't care. But thanks.' Dad expressed his gratitude to the curator for hosting us on a holiday. Then he put his hand on my shoulder. 'Dr Martin, I'd like you to meet Carter and Sadie.' 'Ah! Your son,obviously,and -' The curator looked hesitantly at Sadie. 'And this young lady?' 'My daughter,'Dad said. Dr Martin's stare went temporarily blank. Doesn't matter how open minded or polite people think they are,there's always that moment of confusion that flashes across their faces when they realise Sadie is part of our family. I hate it,but over the years I've come to expect it. The curator regained his smile. 'Yes,yes,of course. Right this way, Dr Kane. We're very honoured!' The security guards locked the door behind us. They took our luggage, then one of them reached for Dad's workbag. 'Ah,no,'Dad said with a tight smile. 'I'll keep this one.' The guards stayed in the foyer as we followed the curator into the Great Court. It was ominous at night. Dim light from the glass doomed ceiling cast crosshatched shadows across the walls like a gaint spiderweb. Our footsteps clicked on the white marble floor. 'So,' Dad said, 'the stone.' 'Yes!'the curator said. 'Though I can't imagine what new information you could glean from it. It's been studied to death - our most famous artefact, of course.' 'Of course,'Dad said. 'But you may be surprised.' 'What's he on about now?' Sadie whispered to me. I didn't answer. I had a sneaking suspicion what stone they were talking about, but I couldn't figure out why dad would drag us out on Christmas Eve to see it. I wondered what he'd been about to tell us at Cleopatra's Needle - something about our mother and the night she'd died. And why did he keep glancing around as if he expected those strange people we'd seen at the Needle to pop up again? We were locked in a museum surrounded by guards and high tech security. Nobody could bother us in here - I hoped. We turn left into the Egyptian wing. The walls were lined with massive statues of the pharaohs and gods,but my dad bypassed them all and went straight for the main attraction in the middle of the room. 'Beautiful,'my father murmured. 'And it's not a replica?' 'No,no,'the curator promised. 'We don't keep the actual stone on display, but for you - this is quite real.'. We were staring at a slab of dark grey rock about three feet tall and two feet wide. It sat on a pedestal, encased in a glass box. The flat surface of the stone was chiselled with three distinct bands of writing. The top part was Ancient Egyptian picture writing: hieroglyphics. The middle section . . .I had to rack my brain to remember what my dad called: Demotic, a kind of writing from the period when the Greeks controlled Egypt and a lot of Greek words got mixes into Egyptian. The last lines were in Greek. 'The Rosetta stone,' I said.'Isn't that a computer program?' Sadie asked. I wanted to tell her how stupid she was,but the curator cut me off with a nervous laugh. 'Young Lady, the Rosetta stone was the key to deciphering hieroglyphics! It was discovered by Napoleon's army in 1799 and -' 'Oh right,' Sadie said. 'I remember now.' I knew she was just saying that to shut him up,but my dad wouldn't let it go.

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'Sadie,'he said,'until this stone was discovered, regular mortals. . . er,I mean, no one had been able to read hieroglyphics for centuries. The written language of Egypt had been completely forgotten. Then an Englishman named Thomas Young proved that the Rosetta Stone's three languages all conveyed the same message. A Frenchman named Champollion took up the work and cracked the code of hieroglyphics.' Sadie chewed her gum,unimpressed. 'What's it say they,then?' Dad shrugged. 'Nothing important. it's basically a thank you letter from some priests to King Ptolemy V. When it was first carved, the stone was no big deal. But over the centuries. . .over the centuries it has become a powerful symbol. Perhaps the most important connection between Ancient Egypt and modern world. I was a fool not to realise its potential sooner.' He'd lost me,and apparently the curator, too. 'Dr Kane?'he asked. 'Are you quite all right?' Dad breathed deeply. 'My apologies, Dr Martin. I was just. . .thinking aloud. If you could have the glass removed? And if you could bring me the papers I asked from your archives.' Dr Martin nodded. He pressed a code into a small remote control, and the front of the glass box clicked open. 'It will take few minutes to retrieve the notes,' Dr Martin said. 'For anyone else,I would hesitate to grant unguarded access to the stone,as you've requested. I trust you'll be careful.' He glanced at us kids like we were troublemakers. 'We'll be careful,'Dad promised. As soon as he left, Dad turned to us with a frantic look in his eyes. 'Children, this is very important. You have to stay out of this room.' He slipped his workbag off his shoulder and unzipped it just enough to pull out a bike chain and padlock. 'Follow Dr Martin. You'll find his office at the end of the Great Court on the left. There's only one entrance. Once he's inside,wrap this around the door handles and lock it tight. We need to delay him.' 'You want us to lock him in?' Sadie asked,suddenly interested. 'Brilliant!' 'Dad,' I said,'what's going on?' 'We don't have time for explanations,'he said. 'This will be our only chance. They're coming.' 'Who's coming?' Sadie asked. He took Sadie by the shoulders. 'Sweetheart, I love you. And I'm sorry . . .I'm sorry for many things,but there's no time now. If it works,I promise I'll make everything better for all of us. Carter,you're my brave man. You have to trust me. Remember, lock Dr Martin. Then stay out of this room. Chaining the curator's door was easy. But as soon as we'd finished, we looked back the way we'd come and saw blue light streaming from the Egyptian gallery, as if our dad had installed a faint glowing aquarium. Sadie locked eyes with me. 'Honestly, do you have any idea what he's up to?' 'None,' I said. 'But he's acting strange lately. Thinking a lot about Mom. He keeps her picture . . .' I don't want to say more. Fortunately Sadie nodded like she understood. 'What's in his workbag?'she asked. 'I don't know. He told me never to look.' Sadie raised an eyebrow. 'And you never did? God,that is so like you Carter. You're hopeless.' I wanted to defend myself, but just then a tremor shook the floor. Startled, Sadie grubbed my arm. 'He told us to stay put. I suppose you're going to follow that order too?' Actually, that order was sounding pretty good to me,but Sadie sprinted down the hall,and after a moment's hesitation I ran after her. When we reached the entrance of the Egyptian gallery, we stopped dead in our tracks. Our dad stood in front of the Rosetta Stone with his back to us. A blue circle glowed on the floor around him,as if someone had switched on hidden neon tubes in the floor. My dad had thrown off his overcoat. His workbag lay open at his feet,revealing a wooden box about two feet long,painted with Egyptian images. 'What's he holding?' Sadie whispered to me. 'Is that a boomerang?' Sure enough,when dad raised his hand,he was brandishing a curved white stick. It look like a boomerang. But instead of throwing the stick,he touched it on the Rosetta Stone. Sadie caught her breath. Dad was writing on the stone. Wherever the boomerang made contact,glowing blue lines appeared on the granite. Hieroglyphs.

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It made no sense.How could he write glowing words with a stick?But the image was bright and clear: ram's horns above a box and an X. 'Open,'Sadie murmured. I stared at her,because it sounded like she just translated the word,but that was impossible. I'd been hanging around Dad for years,and even I could read few hieroglyphs. They are seriously hard to learn. Dad raised his arms. He chanted: 'Wo-seer, i-ei.' And two more hieroglyphic symbols burned blue against the surface of the Rosetta Stone. As stunned as I was, I recognized the first symbol. It was the name of the Egyptian god of the dead. 'Wo-seer,' I whispered. I'd never heard it pronounced that was,but I knew what it meant. 'Osiris.' 'Osiris, come,' Sadie said,as if in a trance. Then her eyes widened. 'No!'she shouted. 'Dad,no!' Our father turned in surprise. He stated to say, 'Children -' but it was too late. The ground rumbled. The blue light turned to searing white,and the Rosetta Stone exploded. When I regained consciousness, the first thing thing I heard was laughter - horrible, gleeful laughter mixed with the blare of the museum's security alarms. I felt like I'd just been run over by a tractor. I sat up,dazed,and spat a piece of Rosetta Stone out of my mouth The gallery was in ruins. Waves of fire rippled in pools along the floor. Giant statues had toppled. Sarcophagus had been knocked off their pedestals. Pieces of the Rosetta Stone had exploded outwards The floor was blackened in a starburst pattern, except for the glowing blue circle around our father. He was facing our direction, but he didn't seem to be looking at us. A bloody cut ran across his scalp. He gripped the boomerang tightly. I didn't understand what he was looking at. Then the horrible laughter echoed around the room again,and I realized it was coming from right in front of me. Something stood between our father and us. At first,I could barely make it out - just flicker of heat. But as I concentrated, it took on a vague form - the fiery outline of a man. He was taller than Dad,and his laugh cut through me like a chainsaw. 'Well done,'he said to my father. 'Very well done, Julius.' 'You were not summoned!' My father's voice trembled. He held up the boomerang, but the fiery man flicked one finger,and the stick flew from Dad's hand, shattering against the wall. 'I'm never summoned, Julius,'the man purred. 'But when you open a door,you must be prepared for guests to walk through.' 'Back to the Duat!' my father roared. 'I have the power of the Great King!' 'Oh, scary,' the fiery man said with amusement. 'And even if you knew how to use that power, which you do not,he was never my match. I am the strongest. Now you will share his fate.' My dad glanced at us,silently urging us to run. Part of me refused to believe any of this was real. Maybe I was unconscious, having a nightmare. Next to me, Sadie picked up a chunk of stone. 'How many?' my dad asked quickly, trying to keep the fiery man's attention. 'How many did I release?' 'Why,all five,' the man said,as if explaining something to a child. 'You should know we're a package deal,Julius. Soon I'll release even more, and they'll be grateful. I shall be named King again. 'The Demon Days,'my father said. 'They will stop you before it's too late.' The fiery man laughed. 'You think the House can stop me? Those old fools can't even stop arguing among themselves. Now let the story be told anew. And this time you shall never rise!'

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The fiery man waved his hand. The blue circle at Dad's feet went dark. Dad grabbed for his toolbox, but it skittered across the floor. 'Goodbye,Osiris,'the fiery man said. With another flick of his hand,he conjured a glowing coffin around our dad. At first it was transparent, but as our father struggled and pounded on its sides,the coffin became more and more solid -a golden Egyptian sarcophagus inlaid with jewels. My dad caught my eyes one last time,and mouthed the word Run!before the coffin sank into the floor, as if the ground had turned to water. 'Dad!' I screamed. Sadie threw her stone,but it sailed harmlessly through the fiery man's head. He turned, and for one terrible moment his face appeared in the flames. What I saw made no sense. it was as if someone had superimposed two different faces on top of each other - one almost human, with pale skin,cruel, angular features and glowing red eyes, the other like an animal with dark fur and sharp fangs. Worse than a dog or wolf or a lion - some animal I'd never seen before. Those red eyes stared at me,and I knew I was going to die. Behind me,heavy footsteps echoed on the marble floor of the Great ,court. Voices were barking orders. The security guards, maybe the police - but they did never get here in time. The fiery man lunged at us. A few inches from my face,something shoved him backwards. The air sparked with electricity. The amulet around my neck grew uncomfortably hot. The fiery man hissed,regarding me more carefully. 'So . . .it's you.' The building shook again. At the opposite end of the room,part of the wall exploded in a brilliant flash of light. Two people stepped through the gap - the man and the girl we'd seen at the Needle, their robes swirling around them. Both of them held staffs. The fiery man snarled. He looked at me one last time and said,'Soon boy.' Then the entire room erupted in flames. A blast of heat sucked all the air out of my lungs and I crumpled to the floor. The last thing I remember, the man with the forked beard and the girl in blue were standing over me. I heard the security guards running and shouting, getting closer. The girl crouched over me and drew a long curved knife from her belt. 'We must act quickly,'she told the man. 'Not yet he said with some reluctance. His thick accent sounded French. 'We must be sure before we destroy them.' I closed my eyes and drifted into unconsciousness.

hmmmmmm am loving dis story

Don't know whst to say.... just continue

Imprisoned With My Cat SADIE Let's see. The explosion. Rosetta Stone in a billion pieces. Fiery evil bloke. Dad boxed in a coffin. Creepy Frenchman and Arab girl with the knife. Us passing out. Right. Do when I woke up,the police were rushing about as you might expect. They separated me from my brother. I didn't really mind that part. But they locked me in the curator's office for ages. And yes,they used our bicycle chain to do it. Cretins. I was shattered, of course. I'd just been knocked out by a fiery whatever-it-was. I'd watched my dad get packed in a sarcophagus and shot through the floor. I tried to tell the police about all that,but did they care?No. Worst of all: I had a lingering chill,as if someone was pushing ice-cold needles into the back of my neck. It had started when I looked at those blue glowing words Dad had drawn on the Rosetta Stone and I knew what they meant. A family, perhaps? Can knowledge of boring Egyptian stuff be hereditary? With my luck. Long after my gum had gone stale,a policewoman finally retrieved me from the curator's office. She asked me no questions. She just trundled me into a police car and took me home. Even then, I wasn't allowed to explain to Gran and Gramps The policewoman just tossed me into my room and I waited. And waited. I don't like waiting.. I opened the door, but the policewoman was standing guard. 'The inspector will be with you in a moment,'she told me. 'Please stay inside.' I could see downstairs - just a glimpse of Gramps pacing the room,wringing his hands,while Carter and a police inspector talked on the sofa. I couldn't make out they were saying. 'Could I just use the loo?' I asked the nice officer. 'No.'She closed the door in my face. As if I might rig an explosion in the toilet. Honestly. I fiddled with the necklace Dad had given me. I'd never been sure what the symbol meant. Carter's was obviously an eye,but mine looked a bit like an angel, or perhaps a killer alien robot. Dad had practically abandoned me at age six,after all. The necklace was my one link to him. On good days I would stare at it and remember him fondly. On bad days, I would fling it across the room and stomp on if and curse him for not being around, which I found quite therapeutic. But in the end I always put it back on. At any rate,during the weirdness at the museum - and I'm not making this up - necklace got hotter. I nearly took it off,but I couldn't help wondering if it truly was protecting me somehow. I'll make things right,Dad had said, with that guilty look he often gives me. Well,colossal fail,Dad. What had he been thinking ?I wanted to believe it had all been a bad dream: the glowing hieroglyphs, the snake staff,the coffin. Things like that simply don't happen. But I knew better. I couldn't dream anything as horrifying as that fiery man's face when he'd turned on us. 'Soon boy,'he'd told Carter,as if he intended to track us down. Just the idea made my hands tremble. I also couldn't help wondering about our stop at Cleopatra's Needle, how Dad had insisted on seeing it,as if he were steeling his courage, as if what he did at the British Museum had something to do with my mum. What do you think guys? Do you think their dad trying to summon Osiris,the god of the dead,had something to do with their dead mother?

FTC........ hmmmmmmmm---- next please

My bedroom door opened. 'Miss Kane?' I whirled. A police inspector stood frowning in my door way.'Tell me everything please,'he said,'from the time your father came around to get you.' 'I already told the police at the museum.' 'Again, if you don't mind.' So I told him everything. Why not? His left eyebrow crept higher and higher as I told him the strange bits like the glowing letters and serpent staff. 'Well,Sadie,'Inspector Williams said. 'You've got quite an imagination.' 'I'm not lying, Inspector. And I think your eyebrow is trying to escape. He tried to look at his own eyebrows, then scowled. 'Now,Sadie,I'm sure this is very hard on you. I understand you want to protect your father's reputation. But he's gone now -' 'You mean through the floor in a coffin,' I insisted. 'He's not dead.' Inspector Williams spread his hands. 'Sadie,I'm sorry. But we must find out why he did this act of . . .well . . .' 'Act of what?' He cleared his throat uncomfortably. 'Your father destroyed priceless artefacts and apparently killed himself in the process. We'd very much like to know why.' I you saying my father's a terrorist? Are you mad?' 'We've made calls to your father's associates. I understand his behavior had become erratic since your mother's death. He did become withdrawn and obsessive in his studies, spending more and more time in Egypt -' 'He's an Egyptologist! you should be looking for him,not asking stupid questions!' 'Sadie,'he said,and I could hear in his voice that he was resisting to urge to strangle me. Strangely,I get this a lot from adults. 'There are extremist groups in Egypt that object to Egyptian artefacts being kept in other countries' museums. These people might have approached your father. If you've heard him mention any names -' I stormed past him to the window. I was angry I could hardly think. I refused to believe Dad was dead. No,no,no. And a terrorist? please. Why did adults have to be so thick? They always say tell the truth,and when you do they don't believe you. What's the point? I stared down at the dark street. Suddenly that cold tingly feeling got worse than ever. I focused on the dead tree where I'd met dad earlier. Standing there now,in the dim light of a streetlamp, looking up at me,was the pudgy bloke in the black trenched coat and the round glasses and the fedora - the man Dad had called Amos.

Huh... Amos.. Why standing there again... U guyz are on your own now that ur dad is death.

'Amos,' I blurted out,just to see his reaction. 'He met a man named Amos.' Inspector Williams signed. 'Sadie,he couldn't have done. Surely you know that. We spoke with Amos not one hour ago,on the phone from his home in New York.' 'He isn't in New York!' I insisted. 'He's right -' I glanced out of the window and Amos was gone. Typical! 'That's not possible,'I said. 'Exactly,'the inspector said. 'But he was here!' I exclaimed. 'Who is he? How do you know to call him?' 'Really, Sadie. This acting must stop.' 'Acting?' He crossed his arms. 'I'm sorry you feel that way, Sadie. I'm afraid it's time we went downstairs . . .to discuss consequences with your grandparents.'

Kidnapped by a Not-So-Stranger SADIE Carter slumped on the sofa,cradling Dad's workbag. I wonder why the police had let him keep it. It should have been evidence or something, but the inspector didn't seem to notice it at all. Carter looked awful - I mean even worse than usual. Gran and Gramps sat on either side of him,looking quite nervous. The pot of tea and a plate of biscuits sat on the table,but no one was having any. Chief Inspector Williams ordered me into the only free chair. Then he paced in front of the fireplace importantly Two police stood by the front door - the woman from earlier and a bloke who kept eyeing the biscuits. 'Mr and Mrs Faust,' Inspector Williams said, 'I'm afraid we have two uncooperative children.' Gram fidgeted with the trim of her dress. 'They are just children,' she managed. 'Surely you can't blame them.' 'Pah!' Gramps said. 'This is ridiculous, Inspector. They aren't responsible!' Inspector Williams didn't seem in pressed. He turned to Cater. 'Young man,your father has committed a criminal act. He's left you behind to deal with the consequences -' 'We can charge you,'the inspector warned,turning on me. 'We can and we will -' He froze. Then he blinked several times, as if he'd forgotten what he was doing. Gramps frowned. 'Er,Inspector?' 'Yes . . .'Chief inspector Williams murmured dreamily. He reached in his pocket and took out a little blue booklet -an American passport. He threw it in Carter's lap. 'You're being deported,'the inspector announced. 'You're to leave the country within twenty-four hours. If we need to question you further, you'll be contacted through the FBI.' Carter's mouth fell open. He looked at me,and I knew I wasn't imagining how odd this was. The inspector had completely changed direction. He'd been about to arrest us. I was sure of it. And then,out of the blue, he was deporting Carter? Even the other police officers looked confused. 'Sir?'the policewoman asked. 'Are you sure -' 'Quite,Linley. The two of you may go.' The cops hesitated until Williams made a shooting motion with his hand. Then they Left, closing the door behind them. Deportation is the kindest option. it's already been arranged.' 'With whom?' Gramps demanded. 'Who authorised this?' 'With . . .'The inspector got that funny blank look again.'With the proper authorities. Believe me, it's better than prison.'Carter looked devastated to speak,but before I could feel sorry for him,inspector Williams turned to me. 'You,too,miss.' 'You're deporting me?' I asked. 'I live here!' 'Inspector,'Gran said, her voice trembling. 'This isn't fair. I can't believe -' 'I'll give you time to say goodbye,'the inspector interrupted. Then he frowned as if baffled by his own actions. 'I - I must be going. This made no sense, and the inspector seems to realize it,but he walked to the front door anyway.when he opened it,I almost jumped out of my chair,because the man in black, Amos,was standing there. He'd lost his trench coat and hat somewhere, but he was still wearing the same pinstripe suit and round glasses. His braided hair glittered with gold beads. I thought the inspector would say something, or express surprise, but he didn't even acknowledge Amos. He walked right past him and into the night. Amos came inside and closed the door. Gran and Gramps stood up. 'You,'Gramps growled. 'I should've known. if I was younger, I would beat you to a pulp.' 'Hello, Mr and Mrs Faust,'Amos said. He looked at Carter and me as if we were problems to be solved. 'It's time we had a talk.'

A talk indeed

hmmmmm interesting

talk kwa... Gran and Gramp should stay with the kidz... I dey that Amos, something bad might happen they leave the kidz with him.

is a Amos a ghost or what well ride on bro

'Please, sit down,'he told us. And we all sat. it was the strangest thing -as if we'd been waiting for his order. Even Gramps dropped his hand and moved round the sofa. He sat next to Amos with a disgusted sign. Amos poured himself tea and regarded me with some displeasure. That wasn't fair,I thought. I didn't look that bad,considering what we'd been through. Then he looked at Carter and grunted. 'Terrible timing,'he muttered. 'But there's no other way . They will have to come with me.' 'Excuse me?' I said. I'm not going anywhere with some strange man. 'I'm no stranger, Sadie,'he said. 'Don't you remember?' It was creepy hearing him talk to me in such a familiar way. I felt I should know him. I looked at Carter,but he seemed just as mystified as I was. 'No,Amos,'Gran said, trembling. 'You can't take Sadie. We had an agreement.' 'Julius broke that agreement tonight,' Amos said. 'You know you can't take care of Sadie anymore - not after what's happened. Their only chance is to come with me.' 'Why should we come anywhere with you?' Carter asked. 'You almost got in a fight with Dad!' Amos looked at the workbag in Carter's lap 'I see you kept your father's bag. That's good. You'll need it. As for getting into fights,Julius and I did that quite a lot. If you didn't notice, Carter, I was trying to stop him from doing something rash. If he'd listen to me,we wouldn't be in this situation.' I had no idea what he was on about but Gramps apparently understood. 'You and your superstitions!'he said. 'I told you we want none of it.' 'Superstition, is it?' Amos asked. 'And yet you found a place to live on the east bank of the river.' He finished his tea and looked straight at Gran. 'Mrs Faust, you know what's begun. The police are the least of your worries.' Gran swallowed. 'You . . . you changed that inspector's mind. You made him deport Sadie.' 'It was that or see the children arrested,'Amos said. 'Hang on,'I said. 'You changed inspector Williams mind? How? Amos shrugged. 'it's not permanent. In fact we should get to new York in the next hour or so before inspector Williams begins to wonder why he let you go.'Carter laughed incredulously. 'You can't get to New York from London in a hour. Not even the fastest plane -' 'No,' Amos agreed. 'Not a plane.'He turned to back to Gran as if everything had been settled. 'Mrs Faust,Carter and Sadie have only one safe option. You know that. They'll come to the mansion in Brooklyn. I can protect them there.' 'You've got a mansion,' Carter said. 'On Brooklyn.' Amos gave him an amused smile. 'The family mansion. You'll be safe there.' 'But our dad -'

your dad is gone

'is beyond your help for now,' Amos said sadly. 'I'm sorry,Carter. I'll explain later,but Julius would want you to be safe. For that,we must move quickly. I'm afraid I'm all you've got.' That was a bit harsh, I thought. Amos stood and wiped the crumps off his jacket. He walked to the patio doors and stared out at the river. 'The police will be back soon. Tell them anything you like. They won't find us.' 'You're going to kidnap us?'I asked, stunned. I looked at Carter. 'Do you believe this?' Carter shouldered the workbag. Then he stood like he was ready to go. Possibly he just wanted to be out of Gran and Gramp's flat. 'How do you plan to get to New York in an hour?'he asked Amos. 'You said,not a plane.' 'No,'Amos agreed. He just put his finger to the window and traced something in the condensation - yet another hieroglyph . 'A boat,'I said - then I realised I'd translated aloud,which I wasn't suppose to be able to do. 'Look!'Carter cried.

following

#following.....next please

Next like remote

hmmmmm

Following...

Following

I pressed in next to him at the patio doors. Down at the quayside, a boat was docked. But not a regular boat,mind you. it was an Egyptian reed boat,with two torches burning in the front,and a big rudder in the back. A figure in a black trench coat and hat - possibly Amos's - stood at the tiller. I'll admit,for once,I was at a loss for words. 'We're going in that,'Carter said. 'To Brooklyn.' 'We'd better get started,'Amos said. I whirled back to my grandmother. 'Gran,please!' She brushed a tear from her cheek. 'it's for the best,my dear. You should take Muffin.' 'Ah ,yes,'Amos said. 'We can't forget the cat.' He turned towards the stairs. As if on cue, Muffin raced down in a leopard spotted streak and leaped into my arms. She never does that. 'Who are you?'I asked Amos. it was clear I was running out of options, but I at least wanted answers. 'We can't just go off with some stranger.' 'I'm not a stranger.'Amos smiled at me. 'I'm family.' And suddenly I remembered his face smiling down at me,saying, 'Happy Birthday, Sadie.' A memory so distant, I'd almost forgotten. 'Uncle Amos?'I asked hazily. 'That's right,Sadie,'he said. 'I'm Julius's brother. Now come along. We have a long way to go.'

We Meet The Monkey CARTER So,anyway, we followed Amos down to the weird boat docked at the quayside. I cradled Dad's workbag under my arm. I still couldn't believe he was gone. I felt guilty leaving London without him,but I believed Amos about one thing: right now Dad was beyond our help. I didn't trust Amos,but I figured if I wanted to find out what happened to Dad I was going to have to go along with him. He was the only one who seemed to know anything. Amos stepped aboard the reed boat. Sadie jumped right on,but I hesitated. I'd seen boats like this on the Nile before, and they never seemed very sturdy. It was basically woven together from coils of plant fibre - like a giant floating rug. I figured the torches at the front couldn't be a good idea,because if we didn't sink we'd burn. At the back,the tiller was manned by a little guy wearing Amos's black trench coat and hat. The hat was shoved down on his head so I couldn't see his face. His hands and feet were lost in the folds of the coat. 'How do this thing move?' I asked Amos. 'You've for no sail.' 'Trust me.'Amos offered me a hand. The night was cold,but when I stepped on board I suddenly felt warmer,as it the torchlight were casting a protective glow over us. In the middle of the boat was a hut made from woven mats. From Sadie's arms, Muffin sniffed at it and growled. 'Take a seat inside,'Amos suggested. 'The trip might be a little rough.' 'I'll stand,thanks.'Sadie nodded at the little guy in the back. 'Who's your driver?' Amos acted as if he hadn't heard the question. 'Hang on,everyone!'He nodded to the steersman,and the boat lurched forward. The feeling was hard to describe. You know that tingle in the pit of your stomach when you're on a roller coaster and it goes into free fall?it was kind of like that,except we weren't falling, and the feeling didn't go away. The boat moved with astounding speed. The lights of the city blurred, then were swallowed in a thick fog. Strange sounds echoed in the dark: slithering and hissing,distant screams, voices whispering in languages I didn't understand. The tingling turned to nausea. The sounds got louder,until I was about to scream myself. Then suddenly the boat slowed. The noises stopped,and the fog dissipated. City lights came back,brighter than before. Above us loomed a bridge, much taller than any bridge in London. My stomach did a slow roll. To the left,I saw a familiar skyline - the Chrysler Building, the Empire state Building. 'Impossible,'I said. 'That's New York.' Sadie looked green as I felt. She was cradling Muffin, whose eyes were closed. The cat seemed to be purring. 'it can't be,'Sadie said. 'We only travelled a few minutes.' And yet here we were,sailing up the East River,right under the Williamsburg Bridge. We glided to a stop next to a small dock on the Brooklyn side of the river. in front of us was an industrial yard filled with piles of scrap metal and old construction equipment. In the centre of it all,right at the water's edge,rose a huge factory warehouse heavily painted with graffiti, the window boarded up. 'That is not a mansion,'Sadie said. Her powers of perception are really amazing. 'Look again.'Amos pointed to the top of the building. 'How ...how did you ...'My voiced failed me

Thanks,once again, for your comments so far.

I wasn't sure why I hadn't seen it before, but now it was obvious: a five storey mansion perched on the room of the warehouse, like another layer of a cake. 'You couldn't build a mansion up there!' 'Long story,'Amos said. 'But we needed a private location.' 'And is this the east shore?' Sadie asked. 'You said something about that in London - my grandparents living on the east shore.' Amos smiled. 'Yes. Very good,Sadie. In ancient times,the east bank of the Nile was always the side of the living,the side where the sun rises. The dead were buried west of the river. it was considered bad luck,even dangerous, to live there. The tradition is still strong among . . . our people.' Our people?'I asked,but Sadie muscled in with another question. 'So you can't live in Manhattan?'she asked. Amos brow furrowed as he looked across at the Empire State Building. 'Manhattan has other problems. Other gods. It's best we stay separate.' 'Other what?'Sadie demanded. 'Nothing.' Amos walked past us to the steersman. He plucked off the man's hat and coat - and there was no one underneath. The steersman simply wasn't there. Amos put on his fedora, folded his coat over his arm,then waved towards a metal staircase that wound all the way up the side of the warehouse to the mansion on the roof. 'All ashore,'he said. 'And welcome to the Twenty-first Nome.' 'Gnome?'I asked,as we followed him up the stairs. 'Like those little runty guys?' 'Heavens, no,' Amos said. 'I hate gnomes. They smell horrible.' 'But you said-' 'Nome, n-o-m-e. As in a district, a region. The term is from ancient times,when Egypt was divided into forty two provinces. Today,the system is a little different. We've gone global. The world is divided into three hundred and sixty Nome's. Egypt, of course,is the First. Greater New York is the Twenty first.' Sadie glanced at me and twirled her finger around her temple. 'No,Sadie,'Amos said without looking back. 'I'm not crazy. There's much you need to learn.' We reached the top of the stairs. Looking up at the mansion,it was hard to understand what I was seeing. The house was at least fifty feet tall,built of enormous limestone blocks and steel framed windows. There were hieroglyphs engraved around the windows, and the walls were lit up so the place looked like a cross between a modern museum and an ancient temple. But the weirdest thing was that if I glanced away the whole building seemed to disappear. I tried it several times just to be sure. If I looked for the mansion from the corner of my eye,it wasn't there. I had to force my eyes to refocus on it,and even that took a lot of willpower. Amos stopped before the entrance, which was the size of a garage door - a dark heavy square of timber with no visible handle or lock. 'Carter,after you.' 'Um,how do I -' 'How do you think?' Great,another mystery. I was about to suggest we ram Amos's head against it and see if that worked. Then I looked at the door again,and I had the strangest feeling. I stretched out my arm. Slowly, without touching the door,I raised my hand and the door followed my movement - sliding upward until it disappeared into the ceiling.

following..... rude on boss

Hmm

Next plz

Am sorry I can't continue with this story for now based on some reasons and tight schedule.

Owk..cont wen u av time..jst knw we re waitin